


Let's stick together

by Saltlordofold



Series: Tales of the King [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Claustrophobia, Deep Roads (Dragon Age), M/M, Pining, Unresolved Romantic Tension, the rest of the team have a line each basically but hey, zevran/m!cousland(implied)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 19:49:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21433753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saltlordofold/pseuds/Saltlordofold
Summary: A collapse in the Deep Roads forces Aedan and Alistair apart from the rest of the party, and a bit too close to one-another for Alistair's comfort.
Relationships: Alistair/Male Cousland, Alistair/Male Warden (Dragon Age), Alistair/Warden (Dragon Age), One-Sided - Relationship
Series: Tales of the King [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/572683
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	Let's stick together

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt fill for the great [ @ma-suranas](https://ma-suranas.tumblr.com/). _ "I’m scared but won’t admit it so you take my hand,"_ from tumblr user [ @bucky-plums-barnes](https://bucky-plums-barnes.tumblr.com/post/184264433918/50-clich%C3%A9-tropes-and-prompts-its-my-first-prompt) "50 cliché tropes and prompts".

Alistair had no clue what it was that caused the carved vault to collapse. It could have been anything, really: a shift of the terrain, a sudden whim the many miles of rock and dirt above their heads, a trap laid by the Spawn, or even simply, for all he knew, the sound of their footsteps, heavy with armour and supplies, echoing too loudly against the stone corridors of a dwarven thaig left so silent and still for so long. Not that the why mattered much: all that Alistair had needed to know was _how_, with just a dusting of warning pebbles and a long, worrisome groan of stone, a whole section of the ceiling had come down in one swift, murderous go, and it was all Aedan and him could do but to pull each other out of the way of the deadly weight plummeting down.

Gravel drummed and trickled down the back of Alistair’s armour. The air was full of a fine-grained dust that left a trail of fire down his throat at every inhale, forcing him into a painful coughing fit. Under him, Aedan seemed to be in no better condition, because his voice sounded more a rasp when he grabbed Alistair’s shoulder and asked, between two hacks of his own:

“Are you hurt?”

Alistair wanted to say something like _“what do you think?”_ and _“you’re asking me?”_ but after counting, he was pretty sure he could feel all his limbs, which was enough to warrant a mumbled “'think so” instead. Alarm rung loud in his ears, a dangerous buzz, and in an effort to not give in to it, Alistair forced himself to push up, which he managed more than precariously. Still, Aedan didn’t turn down his offered hand to help him do the same, and as soon as he was standing, the Warden was already stumbling to the wall of rock that now closed off the corridor they’d just been walking.

“Zevran?” Aedan called, with as much breath as he could manage, “Wynne?”

The second that followed felt as frozen to Alistair as the sweat pooled down his back. In the trembling flame of their weakened torch, half-buried under rocks on the ground, he could see the worry on Aedan’s dirt-plastered face, and there was no doubt in his mind that he wore the exact same expression on his own.

But the crease between Aedan’s brows soothed down at once when friendly voices mercifully started answering from behind the wall of rubble. 

“We’re all fine, here,” Wynne’s voice carried first, “Are you boys?”

Aedan dipped his head in relief, hand resting against one of the largest rocks. Somewhere behind it, Dog was barking, distant and muffled.

“Yes!” Aedan replied, while Alistair closed his eyes for a second, letting relief wash over him too, “Yes, we’re alright, both of us. Maker be thanked.”

The corner of Aedan’s mouth tugged upwards at the sound of Zevran’s voice.

“So much for fine dwarven stonework,” the elf jabbed, from behind what felt like meters of rock.

Oghren’s answer soon followed, short of both breath and patience, to deliver the curt yet eloquent response of:

“Sod off, elf.”

Ever the good sport, Zevran did not seem to take too badly to the blunt answer.

“Would that I could, my friend,” he simply said, “but sadly it seems my way to do so has become quite impracticable, has it not?”

“Would you both shut it?” Morrigan sneered, “Just for once? My head is hurting enough as it is without you jabbering in my ear.”

“Maker,” Leliana said, very purposefully cutting the bickering off before it could spread, “What a mess. It’ll take a while to move all this rubble…”

Sten’s voice sounded as stern and level as always, as if pounds over pounds of deadly rock hadn’t just come close to sealing them all into an unmarked tomb.

“Not if the Golem puts her back to it.”

“The Golem has a name,” Shale drily reminded, “not that it cares much for it.”

Oh, they were all alive and well alright. Alistair would have managed in a quip of his own, but Aedan urgently cut him off.

“Don’t!” he shouted, “Don’t try to dig through. We don’t know how sound the tunnel is, displacing the rubble could bring it all down again.”

A sullen silence followed that realization, and Aedan wiped a hand down his face, grimacing and blinking away the dust best he could.

“Walk back to the crossroads and wait for us there,” he instructed, “We’ll find a way around.”

“Are you sure?” Wynne asked, “You might get lost.”

Aedan glanced Alistair’s way, who returned an uncertain wince. He remembered the way, sort of? They were leaving a Thaig, and he was pretty certain there had been more than one tunnel connecting it to the main Deep Road. If they managed to find one such way, they could meet with the rest of their party there. Granted they found it too, of course. And made it there safely. Given where they were, and in what sort of company, that was everything but guaranteed.

Overall, not much of a sound bet, but the only bet they had, nonetheless.

“We’ll be fine.” Aedan said, managing to sound sure of it, somehow, “Hurry back, now, and stick together. It’s dangerous to linger here.”

“Very well,” Zevran said, “But don’t be too long.”

He had to keep his voice raised to be heard through the collapse, but Alistair still heard it soften as he added:

“Or I’ll have to come look for you.”

The light was growing too dim for Alistair to discern the exact expression on Aedan’s face from where he stood, but the hint of a smile was easy to hear in his reply.

“Understood.”

Slowly, the rustle of footsteps and Dog’s worried barks subdued, leaving behind only silence, and Alistair knelt down to recover their torch. Ever so carefully, he picked it up, making sure to hold it angled just so it would keep burning best it could. Which wasn’t well, but still a lot better than not at all.

“I don’t like them alone,” Aedan said, quieter now that they were the only two left, and without a mount of rock to shout over, “They can’t sense _them_ coming.”

Aedan often confessed things to him as such, Alistair had noticed. Low, when it was just the two of them, out of reach of the others’ ears. Granted, it was rarely under such extreme circumstances, but it had happened more than once. Worries. Questions. Doubts he wouldn’t share with the others. 

For the life of him, Alistair couldn’t understand why Aedan would want to do that with him, who so rarely had a smart answer to supply.

“Even if they don’t, there’s more than enough of them to hold against Spawn, should any show,” Alistair still tried, doing his best to sound reassuring, “They’ll be fine. They can handle themselves.”

After a moment, Aedan sighed.

“You’re right,” he said, a sentence that Alistair only wished he could say as well about himself, and with as much conviction, at least once in his life.

The torch finally recovered some health, making it safer for Alistair to hold it straight. Without the flame of the others’ beacons, though, and the eerie glow of Shale’s crystals and Morrigan’s and Wynne’s staves, the light didn’t reach to much more than a few arms around them.

After it, there was pitch black, total darkness. Alistair tore his gaze from it to focus it on Aedan instead, who had come closer. _Much_ closer, actually. The bubble of light was faint and tight enough around them that if they wanted to see clearly, they had no choice but to practically brush shoulders under it. Alistair could count the specks of dust caught in Aedan’s lashes, as the man rustled beside him, still blinking out dirt as he tightened a loosened fastenings on his belt.

“Bloody Void,” Aedan muttered under-breath, “I hate this place.”

Despite the circumstances, and having to refrain the urge to brush away the small rocks he could see stuck in Aedan’s curls, Alistair couldn’t help but scoff.

“You steal the words right out of my mouth,” he said.

Mouth which was still full of dust, he realised, and grimaced at the unpleasant taste and crunch of dirt under his teeth. Luckily they had some water with them, and Alistair reached for it. They would be wise to save it, just in case, but a sip to wash the taste away couldn’t hurt.

“Good thinking,” Aedan said, grateful for the offered flask.

They sipped in silence. Slowly but steadily, the weight of the situation was starting to fall on Alistair’s mind, an uncomfortable blanket, clinging to his shoulder like a wet cloak: Maker, but this could have been it. They could have died, right there and then, crushed by the mountain in less then the blink of an eye. It was a miracle they hadn’t, really.

“It could have ended like that,” Aedan said, as if reading his mind.

His look was to the distance, his voice quiet.

“The lot of us, under rubble.”

Alistair swallowed hard. His ears still rang from the noise of the collapse, he realized. In the silence, the high-pitched whistle felt painfully loud. Despite the torch, the darkness around them seemed to inch closer.

That would have been the last thing they saw, wouldn’t it? Darkness, and then nothing but more of it. And then nothing at all, eventually.

“Yes,” was all he found in him to say, “It could have.”

Shaking himself, Aedan breathed in deep, and landed a hard pat on Alistair’s back. He even managed to throw him a hint of his usual grin, which gleamed fleetingly in the flickering light of the torch.

“But it hasn’t,” he said firmly, “So let’s keep at it.”

Adjusting the shield on his back and the sword to his side, he started in the direction they had come from.

“Come on, let’s hurry around,” he said, walking off at his brisk pace, “We’re not much safer here ourselves.”

Walking off. Into darkness. Just a few steps away from Alistair, and the wall of shadow had already started to swallow Aedan away, licking past his shoulder like the surface of deep, dangerous waters.

“Don’t!”

Alistair had moved before even realizing it, and his voice had rung far too loud in the enclosed space of the corridor. He winced, embarrassed.

“Stay close,” he said, quieter.

His hand had grabbed Aedan’s forearm, without him meaning for it to do so, but rather than letting go like he should have, Alistair tightened his hold instead.

“I can barely feel you on most days,” he whispered, “so with this all Corruption around us…If you wander off, or if this torch goes out, I might not be able to find you anymore.”

_And that terrifies me_, he thought, but did not say aloud. All at once the idea of that dense, cold shadow engulfing Aedan and leaving the both of them wandering, alone and lost, in those cursed tunnels, had sent shivers down Alistair’s back that even shame wouldn’t let him hold back.

“Right,” Aedan said, “Of course.”

Alistair fully expected him to step back, but instead, he raised his armored hand, and firmly landed it on Alistair’s.

“Let’s stick together,” he agreed, “It’s safer this way.”

Alistair could only nod back.

Soon the small, dark tunnel would give in to a larger corridor. The faint gleam of deep mushrooms, exposed lyrium veins, as well as a a few surface rays, expertly-guided to the Thaig’s hall by the Dwarves’ engineering, would allow them to see clear enough to let go of each other and walk normally side by side.

But as they did, and even, much later on, as they finally joined back with the rest of their party, Alistair could not shake from his head - just like he couldn’t shake the ringing from his ears - the firm touch of Aedan’s hand holding his back.


End file.
